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Friday, 20 July 2012

From Tiny, to Trying

Not long after I started blogging, I discoverd Christina - Mummy Beadzoid on Britmums. I was so excited that there was another "premmie mum" blogger on the block! I really love this post, and I am struggling with Joseph's "threenager" phase too, and that little voice in my head that says "oh but he's your tiny miracle baby".

I love my
daughter, she has real spirit. A real feistiness that makes one mock-sigh, and
say, “ooh, she’s such a diva!”And then
I chuckle to myself happy in the knowledge that she is going to be an
independent woman, one not to be trifled with.She fought to come into the world at 27 weeks, and she fought to come
home two weeks ahead of ‘due date’ schedule.Always in a hurry, always determined.And everyone who knows her, especially her doting, though equally
spirited mother, loves that about her.

Diva? Me? I just pulled out my feeding tube!

Well, until
recently.See, I think we got off pretty
lightly with the so-called terrible two’s.Yes, she became a little more cantankerous than she had previously been
– or more accurately, better at communicating any displeasure; but on the whole
she has remained the same lovely little girl that she has always been – full of
smiles and hugs and kindness.I have
loved the age of two, lots of fun and a sense of wonder at how our little
lady’s personality develops more with each passing day.Give me a terrible two over a baby any day.

But now,
well, we’re on the verge of three.The ‘trying
threes’.I had never heard this term
before a friend used it in my presence, probably to describe the new level of
challenging her daughter had become.I’ll be honest, I thought, ‘well, that’s your daughter.And lovely
though your daughter is, my daughter
will never have such tantrums or answer me back in such a cheeky way’. Ha!

Approximately
two weeks ago my daughter became the devil.Don’t get me wrong, for the most part she is still the same lovely
little girl who comes and demands a cuddle before planting a big snotty kiss on
me (yum), but ohhhh the answering back, ohhhh the defiance.Where did thislittle monster come from
and can we please go back to a previous restore point and forget the last two
weeks ever happened?Please?

Disciplining
a child is not a difficult task for me.I’m a teacher of ‘big ones’ and I am more than happy to let them know of
my displeasure in the strongest possible terms.Indeed I once had a year 9 form group so terrified of me that their
teachers used me as leverage to get them to behave in their lessons.And this was when I was an NQT in charge of a
form that had been notorious in their unmanageability.I am good with the iron rod – and without
shouting, I don’t need to.So yes, I too
little lady am not to be trifled with.Except…. Except….

Well, you
were born really early weren’t you?You
were a tiny little birdlike creature and we didn’t know if you would live or
die.You did your bit; you fought, and
it became apparent that you would thrive. But the protective feelings remained and I
swore I would do my very best for you.I
swore I would be your parent and your friend (though not in that tragic “I’m a
cool mum!” kind of way) and I could never imagine thinking bad things about
you.I certainly would never shout at
you.

But then… then you started engaging
me in tugs of wars when I needed to take something from you that youreally
shouldn’t have. Then you started shouting “No!” and “Stop talking!” not only at
us, but also your grandparents.And
refusing to do things, like walk past the magazines in Tesco; or let me fasten
the car seat “No, Mummy! Don’t WANT it!” you would hiss.And you threw the mother of all tantrums all
the way up the motorway when mummy was already stressed, simply because I took
a plastic whistle off you, because mummy really can’t have the alarming shrill
racket while she’s driving.You threw a
million and one other tantrums in the space of two or three weeks that you
never would have done, but a month ago. You have really tried my patience.

And so on
occasion I have lost my rag.I have
shouted.I never shout (well, not much) But
I did. I shouted. At you. Then I felt
so so guilty. Because…. you were so tiny.You might not be here.You might have suffered disabilities as a
result of your prematurity. What if those brain bleeds had not corrected
themselves?What if the heart valve they
thought might not close actually hadn’t?What if the RSV had claimed your 3 day old little life before I got the chance
to know you properly?What if?

But none of
those things came to pass.You are well,
and I am one of the luckiest mums alive.And there is not a day goes by where I am not thankful for it.So the biggest challenge for this mum of an
almost three year old ex-prem is being the parent who must be strong and raise
her child as I would have done any other; to have manners, be respectful, non-brat-like,
and not be tempted to excuse unacceptable behaviour because, well, you were
born so tiny.

Beadzoid

Christina is
a secondary/sixth-form teacher and mum to an ex-27 weeker.She blogs as Beadzoid, campaigns for Bliss, the premature baby charity
and is a committee member of the Grace Research Fund, a local Warwickshire
based charity which specialises in commissioning research in perinatal and
neonatal issues.

4 comments:

Great post! It is so hard because you will never forget how they started out. Gemma is just 2 and with her eating gets away with so much as we are all so pleased she wants to eat anything! I now need to try and be firmer but it is so difficult.These cheeky girls got through so much because of their feistyness and fight so we have to be thankful for it.I worry we won't be firm enough and she will be an awful teenager. it really is a challenge.X

I am so glad to read this Christina because even though Adam is only 16mos old, he already has a temper on him and loves to throw screaming tantrums if I ask him to do something he doesn't want to do (like have his nappy changed or remove his fingers from the power sockets) And I start by being patient and firmly but quietly correcting him, then I move on to shouting and just a couple of times, he has pushed me so far I've even smacked his legs - something I swore I would never do. And every single time he pushes those buttons I feel SO guilty because he is my post-GBS miracle who was never supposed to be here. Surely I should be treasuring his every moment and mothering him like I'm sure the Virgin Mary mothered a perfect Jesus who never gave her any attitude...... ::sigh:: Thank you for the reality check!

Haha, thanks Charlotte. I don't know about you but I'm no Virgin Mary or Mother Theresa ;) I guess we have to give ourselves a break and just do the best that we can. Even if we can't stop the guilt we can be aware of it and hopefully that will make it easier.